Silver Hollow (29 page)
She awoke to the rain begging loudly to be let inside. From the crick in her neck Amie concluded she’d fallen asleep out of bed
again
, and tried to recall the night before. A whirlwind of images filtered through her head, of Emrys leaving her in the forest and being rescued by Dameri, who then led her to the stables. Dearg had looked after her, only after she literally fell at his feet
,
and Emrys, after kissing her senseless, forbade her to speak to him again. Not that she had any intention of obeying the crazy stalker who left her for dead.
She let
her limbs untangle and flopped onto her back to stare at the
apex of her canopy. Her eye
s were
beginning to trace the family crest when a voice broke the silence. “Tell me, Jessamiene, do you still find this the dream or have you awakened?”
Amie bolted upright and gasped. “Uncle Henry!”
His laughter was cut short on impact of her smaller form barreling into his chest. She held onto him, afraid this was the dream and when she woke
up,
she’d still be at the mercy of Emrys and their never
-
ending
lessons
. But it was Uncle Henry, with his surprisingly youthful features, hair black as soot like hers, eyes gray as a rain
-
swept sky. His laugh lines crinkled into a teasing smile as he patiently waited for her to take her fill. Once she was certain he was real she jumped off the couch and let him have it.
“Don’t you ever take off and leave without telling me again! You hear me
,
Lord
Wenderdowne? I think we’ve both lost enough people we cared about and I’m not adding you to
the
list.” She regretted her words the moment she saw his forehead crease with times past. Sitting beside him this time, she watched his profile and remembered her father had the same cut of an angular jaw.
“You have every right to be upset with me, Jessamiene. I cannot pretend not to see quite a good many things have changed in my absence.” He eyed her then, a hint of curiosity flashing over his features. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he seemed hesitant to speak. “I
have not seen such a dress
in
a good many years now. Where did you get it?”
Their eyes met. Amie didn’t want to mention Dearg for some reason. She had a feeling he should never have brought her through the secret door and didn’t want to get him in trouble. “Got wet in the rain yesterday and found these,” she said.
“Curious you
should find
such old clothes yet intact
,
” he mused, rubbing his chin. Amie tensed, wondering if he might have known the previous owner.
A
s she was digging her mind into a panic, his smile returned. “Now then, what sort of adventures have you been keeping yourself to, lass?”
“Maybe you should ask the guy you hired to protect me.”
Henry’s response was instantly guarded,
a
darker look than she’d ever caught
on
his genial face.
After opening a can of figurative worms Amie was required to go into detail over the long days of Henry’s absence. She touched briefly on learning about the House, horseback riding with Slaine, studying under Cook and gardening with Periwinkle. She didn’t mention
the secret library, her little f
aerie friend or Dearg. Her
u
ncle’s lips quirked with hidden amusement through tell of her guardians’ antics
,
as though he expected
as
much. All changed once she delved into the night before. Conveniently, she didn’t tell him she let Emrys kiss her and worse, she kissed him back.
He was conflicted, it was plain to see. By this point he had taken to pacing up and down the length of the rug she named Leroy. When she emphasized how close a brush with death she had found, he stopped. Sinking into his seat he brushed the hair from his forehead with a trembling hand and sighed.
“There is so much you have yet to learn
,
my poppet, so much of the burden I would see kept from you…” Sitting back into the cushion
,
he focused on the pop of the wood cracking against the strain of heat.
“I’m a big girl, Henry. And I’m American. We kind of pride ourselves on our independence. I think I can take it.”
“Never doubted you would, Jessamiene, however
,
there is quite a lot you do not know about Emrys. His history with this House is long and tragic. You might even say no other person in Silver Hollow has your interest closer to his heart.”
Amie scowled. “I can’t believe you’re trying to defend him.”
“You’ll be very glad of his defense when the time comes, mark me. Meantime, give him your attentions no matter what he instructs, but never fully trust him.”
“I thought you said no one had my interests more at heart?”
His smile was uncanny and unexpected. “He is not at all like us. As you must be aware, none of us come as close to humanity as you do. Emrys hails from a people so far removed from us, we cannot begin to bridge the differences. Because of this we must rely on and fear him at once.”
Amie rose to her feet, fists full of her borrowed skirts. “Tell me something I don’t know, then. What are you? What am I?” She should have known better than to expect anything better than a cryptic reply.
“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” he queried with a whimsical smirk. “I fear I must keep silent on the matter at present.” Holding up a hand to ward her protests, he continued, “I would keep you from knowing more than you can grasp. Though you might presume to have
a stouter mind,
you are not ready to learn everything yet.”
Amie couldn’t mask her disappointment, but she chose to trust him. He had done his best to look after her and she felt he deserved this chance. “So, you managed to survive Morcant Hogswillow, after all?”
s
he teased and laughed at his sour expression, no better than if he’d swallowed a handful of sweet tarts.
A shadow passed over his face and hesitantly, he brought his leveled his gaze to her and said, “Aye, about the Lady Hogswillow, Jessamiene. There’s something I should have confessed sooner, but hadn’t the heart to tell you.”
All it took for Amie to figure out the big secret was the apology written in her uncle’s striking gray eyes. Dumping the empty tea cup onto the floor, she said, “What? She’s
here
?”
…
Wenderdowne was like a kettle trembling from too much steam on the stove. Once Amie listened
to
Henry’s excuse for bringing the stylized black widow home, she quite literally ran
in
the other direction. She would have felt supremely selfish for admitting to her uncle
that
she’d missed his company. Moreover, she had been hoping he might rescue her from lessons with Emrys. Quality time with her stalker was the last thing she wanted after their fight last night. But Henry
subtly threatened
that
if she refused her lesson
then
Morcant was more than willing to have her accompany them through the grounds that afternoon.
When pigs fly, lady
,
Amie grumbled to herself as she found the Armory once more. Cl
ut
ching her old servant garb, she hoped to aggravate Emrys even further.
Underhill
had been absent, forced to cater to the whims of their important guest, giving Amie free rein over her appearance. Wearing Dearg’s temporary gift was her way of getting even with Henry’s ultimatum. Only Emrys knew who had lent her the dress.
The servants Amie passed all carried a hitch in their giddy-up. Various feminine articles were being carried from one side of the castle to the other. Amie frowned when she noticed Reggie the butler hauling a trunk nearly double his size. No sooner had she watched him trudge up the grand staircase than
Dan
i
came rushing around the corner. The small, albino maid had tears streaming down her cheeks and food overturned onto her clothing.
“Dan
i
, what’s wrong?” she called after the poor creature. Dan
i
jumped, startled Betty Davis eyes leaping onto hers as though she had missed Amie before.
“N-nothing, milady…
’
twas terribly clumsy of me. All my fault! I’ll just change and return to my duty, aye?” Those blue eyes were pleading with her, begging for Amie to give her what little dignity she had left to cry in peace.
Amie nodded, still unused to people unwilling to act without her approval. She decided then she despised Morcant Hogswillow. Little could have lifted her mood, save the look on Emrys’ face when she entered the Armory.
…
“What in
blithering toadstools
have ye done to yourself?” Emrys bellowed across the room, pausing mid-motion from his weapons exercise.
Lifting her chin proudly, she practically skipped the rest of the way into the room before twirling before him. “Like it? I hear it’s all the rage in the village.”
Emrys’ arms tensed as he clenched the axe handle even more tightly. Only then did she realize his white shirt was drenched from perspiration and conveniently hugging his entire wiry muscular frame. His black hair had fallen flat onto his head for a change, giving him a more masculine and appea
l
ing look.
Curse him! He knew I was coming and probably planned t
his.
Amie hid the fact she was flustered well, stepping casually around him and fingering the weapon in his hands. “So, this is one of those mindless war tools only idiots use? I guess your own inner
nixy
isn’t as up to speed as you thought.”
Emrys’s mouth turned up at the corners in a grimace. “Aye, ye would see it that way, I suppose.”
“I’m only repeating your words. Maybe you should pay better attention.” Amie turned her back to him to examine the swords across from them. Behind her she felt the whir of wind and motion and barely shifted in time to miss the steel aimed at her head. Choking on her words, she sputtered while Emrys spun and righted his footing
.
“What the heck, Emrys? You could have killed me!”
Flashing his pointed white teeth, he replied, “Fortunately, ye were paying better attention.” Hooking the weapon back to its prongs, he snatched up a vest and
,
donning it, turned to face her. “Come, today I’m taking ye somewhere forbidden.”
…
Together, Emrys and Amie avoided the safety of the candle trail and took a series of hidden passages to avoid the servants. Soon the halls grew darker, unaffected by light, as though they preferred the darkness. When their feet began to sift through a fine layer of ashes, Amie knew where Emrys was taking her, the forbidden West Wing. Everywhere else the House had been resurrected to life. Here the destruction was untouched like a war memorial.
Eventually they came to a path she recognized, and her candle trembled in anticipation of finding the hidden library. Somehow, she desperately hoped Emrys wouldn’t lead them there. It was the only place in the castle she felt she could hold to herself. Yet Emrys pushed past the narrow corridor to return to the main hall once again. When Amie chanced a glance to the library, not even the glow of candles emanated from its doorframe.
Curiouser and curio
u
ser…
His voice came from these black shadows, hollow and swallow
ing
her whole. “The night we ran into one another, ye shouldn’t have been here, Jessamiene. Did no one tell you the dangers
lurking
here?”
“Besides you?” Amie repressed a sigh
.
“I’m not really worried about the House since I consider you more dangerous than any ghost.” He chuckled, slipped back into her bubble of candlelight
in
that effortless, creepy way of his. For a moment, she could feel the conflicting emotions rolling off of him in violent waves. The passion in his eyes stirred her blood to unhealthy levels, instantly reminded her of part of the reason she despised him.
“Better to know th
ine
enemy, aye?” he said, eyeing her borrowed dress. “I’m willing to let slide the fact ye wear
this
in defiance of me.” Amie rolled her eyes when he held out an open palm and said, “Now let me show you the enemy ye have yet to meet.”
He insisted on holding her hand in his cool grip and because she knew better than to rebel until she got her answers out of him,
she
complied. Scorch marks crept from floor to rafter, most of which had fallen in without betraying their foundations. Silence stretched between them, filled with unseen watching eyes and anticipation leaking from the gray areas of her vision. It was the loneliness of these empty halls and rooms, the tragedy of residual smoke and ash on her lungs that made her forget to be angry at him.